The Hollow Man
by scribensdracones
Summary: Anders falls madly in love with Erwin Hawke- against his better judgement. The templars keep closing in on him. Hawke hunts the mages relentlessly. His friends start turning away from him - and while Anders loses all hope and only finds comfort in Justice and his manifesto, he realizes that some things are more important than what little remains to him. [Anders x anti-mage Hawke]
1. Chapter 1

Some men have doom following them like a shadow. They stand in the center of the storm, unharmed while everything around them is devastated with the raw force of their mere presence. Some people are doomed and some people doom others. He always considered himself to belong to the first group, those who would always struggle and always fail in the end. It never stopped him from trying anyways. Erwin Hawke was a formidable example for the second type of person- the one who destroyed everyone around him. And no one minded. Bewitched by irresistible charisma, they wandered into the inevitable doom like blinded sheep. He sure did, Anders mused. At all points of their relationship, he'd been perfectly aware of the fact that this end was inevitable. And yet he felt a certain grief, now that the tip of his feather scratched against the parchment. Tomorrow, he would finish it. Tomorrow, Erwin's sword would chop the head off his shoulders. Or maybe he would have Fenris rip out his heart and devour it… no, that's something a demon would do. Erwin was a monster, but a monster of a worse kind than the ones lurking in the shadows. 'I am sorry for failing', he wrote, then crossed it out with metal scratching on parchment. A gift from Erwin, just another attempt at appeasing his partner. But Hawke should know by now that Anders cared little for material possessions… The mage sighed bitterly and glanced over to the bed and fondly remembered times when this room had not felt cold. Times when his chest had not felt empty and times when he thought that maybe everything could be… allright. One day. Maybe.

They met on a rainy autumn day six years ago. That day, already as early as from the moment he woke, he felt ill at ease. Restless, his mind in a constant state of disquiet, and all thoughts wandered and strayed to his plans for the evening. Karl… He'd planned everything with greatest care and yet he felt anxious. Couldn't wait to see him again and yet felt like delaying everything as much as possible. No. He had to get him out of there. A blur of patients, short breaks, downed mana potions, more patients treated. Until the four armed individuals entered his clinic. He could already hear the clink of heavy armor, but templars never got down here on their own. And someone would have warned him. What else would get armed individuals to his clinic? More thieves? More thugs from the Carta coming to pester him and his patients? Forcing his simmering anger down, he reached out for his staff. "I have made this place a sanctum of healing and salvation, why do you threaten it?"

He first noticed the man in heavy armor, tall and strong, blond hair parted neatly. A dwarf, he first noticed the astonishing lack of beard, then the crossbow. A woman, red-haired and in the armor of the cityguard, the templar's flame drawn on her shield. Anders resisted the natural instinct to take a step back. A girl, dark-haired, the staff she had with her was impossible to miss. The blond one took up speech, his voice calmer than he'd have expected.

"I'm just here to talk… put that staff down."

While Anders did not really obey this bold command, he did take a less militant stance while the blond man gestured to the dwarf as if handing him the current role of main speaker. So they did not just come here to have some wounds patched up and Anders listened with the hint of a frown on his Roads… Oh Maker, no. Now he felt convinced that the Wardens sent these people. Track him down, make sure they got the right one and then drag him back to Amaranthine or somewhere else even more unpleasant. But wouldn't it be beautiful to have a home again? No. He couldn't let himself start thinking that way. Or he would end up missing to the Deep Roads, he couldn't let himself just let his thoughts stray like that. Didn't someone mention it lately? Wanted to join up, make good coin. He remembered trying to talk the man out of this idea. Why would any sane person want to go down into the Deep Roads anyway?

He nearly ended up sending them away- but he had a better idea. "I have no interest in having anything to do with the Deep Roads, really, but... I think we could strike a deal." Something about that Hawke made him uncomfortable and he crossed his arms. Stay cool. His companions sure did seem alright enough, but the impenetrable stare of those blue eyes made him feel oddly exposed. Focus.

"You help me, I help you, sounds like a fair deal, doesn't it?"  
"Alright then."  
"You don't even ask what I want of you? For all you know I could ask for the Grand Cleric's head or something."

"Well, do you want her head?" Hawke crossed the massive arms in front of his chest and Anders frowned. Right now, he could even imagine him walking right into the chantry and leaving it with the severed head of Elthina. What a thought, really. However, the mage shook his head anyways. No use for senseless murder. There were more pressing matters at hand.

"I have arranged a meeting with a friend," he started and took a few more steps away from the group of four, all eyes on him. They listened, and, more importantly, they might be willing to help. If everything went according to plan, their presence would not be needed. But Anders had learned to trust his instincts- and something deep inside of him was deeply worried. Maybe he would feel more at ease knowing that such an armed bear of a man like Hawke would be there to interfere in case something went wrong.

"He's a mage in the circle here in Kirkwall. It's getting dire- I'm getting him out of there. We meet tonight in the chantry. If everything goes right..."  
"... you won't need us. But you think that something could go wrong?", Hawke finished the sentence for him and tilted his head, arms still crossed. Anders nodded in agreement. Simple matter, really.

"You want to help a mage to escape the circle?", the redhead suddenly asked, after having been silent for the entire conversation. Hawke turned his intense glare away from Anders and now focused on his companion in guard's attire. "We need the map to the deep roads, Aveline. The templars will take care of it... don't look at me like I'm going to run off and sell you and your friend out to them right away, apostate."

Anders bit his lip and nodded. No one could be trusted, and he was really not sure whether this was a good idea in any way. But he was equally sure that he wouldn't run into anyone who would do this for free either. No one who looked like they knew what they were doing with the weapons they carried around. "Under one condition. This will not be taken to the templars- Maker knows what they will do to him. I hear it every day, rules getting stricter, the surveillance near constant..."  
It was easier to ignore Hawke's intense stare when talking about something that was really important, something that occupied his mind fully. Karl, the templars, the circles. Just for being... born that way. "... this is a terrible injustice, to be robbed of all freedom just like that."

"I see. You think mages should all be free instead?" Something about Hawke's words sounded threatening, but maybe he just imagined things. The warrior's posture relaxed after an initial tension of massive muscles. "I will not speak out on this topic now. I will see you at sunset at the Main Entrance to the Chantry."

They did meet at the chantry at sunset- but it was a disaster. All adventurous scenarios he'd imagined, running off with Karl, starting a new life, a new clinic in another city, maybe even make it to Rivain or Tevinter... it was all shattered the second he saw the flaming sun of Andraste burned into Karl's forehead. He had hoped until the moment he saw into those empty eyes. Hoped for a chance to find this old love again, childish, sweet and innocent, memories of wet, sloppy kisses under blankets, gentle pecks when no one was nearby in the library, secretive glanced at each other when they were supposed to pray to Andraste and the Maker. It was all dead now, the blood of a friend and lover on the blade of his dagger, lying next to the corpse back on the chantry floor, next to the corpses of numerous templars who had fallen that evening. He hoped to find peace back in his clinic and he inhaled shakily once he entered the familiar room where he treated the poor and the sick of Darktown. But he was not to find the much-needed solitude, no time to mourn, he could hear their steps, but reacted too late. A steel-clad hand on his shoulder, an iron grip that forced him to turn around, he felt too exhausted to protest. Of course. Hawke who had helped him to fight off the templars. His glare was difficult to read and Anders tried to take a step away.

"What was that back in the chantry?", Erwin inquired harshly, released his grip on Anders' shoulder immediately and took a step back. Justice. In that second... his soul had been in a terrible turmoil. The templars, Karl, tranquil and a traitor... and so he did the only thing that seemed right: fight for his freedom. Death before defeat, or something along those lines the Warden-Commander once said to him. So he fought, his deep rage fueled into a wildfire by the past few minutes that all crashed down on him like stormy waves. Anders bit his lip, hesitant, not sure about how he was supposed to explain, not even sure whether to tell the truth at all. But no, he was no liar, he told himself, and so he decided that it would be wisest to go for honesty with a man like Erwin. It seemed to him like this would be the safest bet. And indeed, while the blond's face darkened with every single sentence, Anders felt like he had some level of understanding for his actions. Or maybe not. His face was nearly impossible to read, a feature that caused him some measure of discomfort.

"So you're an abomination," Erwin finally concluded with a critical frown. No differences made between spirits and demons, but Anders supposed that he was in no place to expect much more. Now that he'd said it out loud... Some part of him was reluctant to acknowledge that Hawke was, in some way, sort of right. Justice was not... Justice anymore, and he wondered whether Justice and Anders truly still existed as separate entities. Maybe they formed something new together. And still, the Warden shook his head. "No, not... an abomination. I can control it," he insisted, but Hawke still looked inconvinced, his gaze still doubtful. Anders always felt uncomfortable with people of his kind knowing of his whereabouts. Those were the ones who could easily decide that it was best to just go and tell the templars...

"I see. And the maps? I need the maps. You know what? Come and see me in the Hanged Man tomorrow evening, Varric sure's going to want to see them too. Half eight, and don't be late."


	2. Chapter 2

The Hanged Man was always busy in the evenings. Erwin threw a quick glance towards the counter where he saw Isabela at her usual spot. A quick nod- a silent invitation to follow. They met a few days ago, quite an... individual, one could say. She fit here, in this messy place that always reeked of sweat, stale ale and cheap wine. He made his way upstairs, right into Varric's suite where he already found most of their bunch of misfits assembled. Bethany who spent the entire day at home, Merrill who listened to Varric's stories with wide eyes, Fenris who chose to brood in a corner. But at least he got himself to actually leave the desolate mansion. Aveline already announced she wouldn't have time this week. Some part of Erwin already looked forward to her meeting Isabela. The two women couldn't be any more different, it seemed.

Hawke sat down next to Fenris after a quick greeting. He rather prefered to just observe their friendly interactions, rather than get actively involved with anything. He was not particularly fond of gambling and neither did he really enjoy beer and ale in abundance. Not chatty, not gossipy. He'd heard often enough that he was a terribly boring man. But it was alright... at least someone here had to keep a cool head at all times.

While the merry group of more-or-less-friends was about to choose a nice activity for the evening, Anders entered the inn, feeling uncomfortable and empty. Karl... He couldn't forget the emptiness in his eyes and the void in his voice. The way he'd implored him to take his life... How could any man just forget about that? He'd left his staff in the clinic, deciding that it was too much of a risk to run through the streets with it while not expecting any major trouble. This was just a visit to the Hanged Man. Anders stood there, feeling a little lost, not sure whether he was maybe too early now. But then he spotted Hawke, descending the stairs, exchanging a couple of words with a woman in surprisingly little clothing. The maps. His hands went up to the pocket where he had them, carelessly folded in a time when he used to be a far less serious man.

"Good evening, Anders." Hawke stopped right in front of him, a bit taller, broader, even without his heavy armor. Actually, he looked quite handsome... The healer forced himself to smile, it turned out rather cramped. "Good evening, Hawke. I got the.."  
"Good, but not here," Erwin interrupted him and made a single gesture to follow. They went back upstairs where he spotted the dwarf and the dark-haired girl again. And an elf was with them too, as well as that woman in skimpy clothing.

"This is Anders and he got the maps to the deep road entrances in the Marches," Erwin declared and already sat down on the nearest chair with a pint of ale in his hand. Anders noticed how it was pretty much still full, but the evening was still young, as some people would put it. They all gathered around the table on which he spread out the map. The entire discussion took about half an hour, then Varric took the maps and locked them away. Everyone got back to their beer and he felt a hand on his shoulder. The beardless dwarf. "You look like you could use a drink. Are you alright?" He was probably referencing what happened yesterday... Anders just nodded absent-mindedly. He felt Hawke staring at him. Those blue eyes, so cold, they seemed to penetrate his skin, his bones, to stare right into his core. He didn't like having people stare at him like that. Calculating and somewhat distrustful.

He was seated between Varric and this woman named Isabella, a beer in front of him, the two of them playing cards against Bethany and an elven girl named Merrill who was apparently a mage as well and from a Dalish clan. New to town. The white-haired elf, his name was Fenris, just sat next to Hawke. The elf was brooding, Hawke was just quietly staring at them and finally rose from his chair to saunter over to their table. His hands rested on the wood of the plate.

"I've been thinking about the situation with the templars, seeing as we have three apostates here, right now," he declared and Anders shifted in visible discomfort. Bethany groaned in annoyance. "Erwin, won't you please stop lecturing us all?" His glare silenced her down right away and Anders had to admit that he sure was good at staring people down. "Bethany, Merrill, I want you two to not use any magic outside home, and even when at home, avoid it at all costs. Do not walk around with your staffs- that couldn't be much more suspicious. And you, Anders..." He finally looked at him directly. "I understand you can't just not use magic anymore in your clinic... but I advise you too leave your staff at home."

Anders frowned. "You want us to hide?" But of course, as if there was anything else one could do in a city full of templars. Hawke pulled a chair closer and sat down, apparently willing to talk about the topic of mages this time. Yesterday, he'd just... cut it off.

"Yes, that's exactly what I want. If the three of you are already refusing to surrender yourselves to the circles... then stay safe at least." Bethany frowned in some measure of discomfort. The merry mood was certainly ruined for now. What must it be like, to live with someone who was like.. that? He seemed cold, distant, and he suddenly stood up again.

"Anders, I want to have a word with you in private."


End file.
